


Taters

by ifonlynotnever



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack (Probably), Ficlet, Gen, Nerdiness, One Shot, Quote-inspired, Ridiculous, Silly, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifonlynotnever/pseuds/ifonlynotnever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John attempts to send Sherlock on an errand. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the same kinkmeme prompt as _Amped_. Obviously, I have a thing for making Sherlock and John squabble over domestic stuff. And for Lord of the Rings quotes. Shut up.

John is at the hob, thinking about making dinner, when he hears Sherlock rattling about in the sitting room. The sound brings a smile to the doctor's lips, because he has had five months of sharing a flat with Sherlock, and by now he can distinguish between the rambunctious "I've got a case!" clattering, the sedate "I'm meeting a contact" thumping, and the suspicious "I don't have anything on, so I'm going out, but I don't want company and I don't want you to send me out on an errand" rummaging—and the sounds drifting into the kitchen right now are most definitely of the third type.

John suppresses the grin in his voice and calmly calls out, "Sherlock?"

The rummaging noises cut off immediately. John bites his lip to stop from laughing.

"Sherlock, I know you can hear me. Be good and pick up some taters for us while you're out, will you?"

Beyond the kitchenette door, the detective swears softly, then pokes his head in.

"Some  _what_?" he asks, looking at his flatmate incredulously. "Did you just say  _taters_?"

John gives an exasperated sigh. "Po-ta-toes. Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew?"

"Yes, obviously, _potatoes_. What's wrong with the ones in the crisper?"

The doctor's eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

"What's—You're seriously asking me that? Seriously? After you used them in that—battery experiment? The one where you hooked them up to a  _severed hand_?"

"I disinfected them afterwards."

John looks at him for a moment, and just sighs.

"There are so many things wrong here, I can't even—Look, Sherlock. Just get the potatoes. I'm making dinner, and—"

"No guarantees," Sherlock replies, already sweeping away.

"No, wait—Sherlock! Get the—Ugh." John looks up at the ceiling and says to no on in particular, "That man. I will throttle him one day, I really will."

He smiles as he says it.


End file.
